


'Friend.'

by broadwayace



Series: Executioner Boyfriends [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pining, anyway i love this game and i love my boys, im not sure what else to tag this as, kind of slow burn, soft, there needs to be more soft in this tag; canon content be damned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayace/pseuds/broadwayace
Summary: Communication and camaraderie is important though the the long night of the Hunt. It means something more to Rowan, but what about...?
Relationships: Alfred/The Hunter (Bloodborne)
Series: Executioner Boyfriends [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622260
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	'Friend.'

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, welcome to my first post on ao3!! Yaaaay. Bloodborne is one of my favourite video games at the moment, and I had to write something for it lmao.  
> A little bit of info about Rowan: because of Backstory Reasons, he is selectively mute and uses sign language, which everyone can understand, because My Yharnam Now. He's kind of my test subject on writing sign language, and I'm open to critiques and feedback on how to make it better.  
> More of this content is on the way!

The blood moon bathed the already red-running streets an unholy shade of crimson, fires crackled around him, beasts he hadn't hunted down by now growled and howled and moaned in the nooks and crannies of the gothic city, and a loud, singular slice of saw against flesh rang out, the poor victim falling to the ground with one last gurgle.

Yharnam was, for lack of a better term, completely fucked.

Rowan squatted down by the mangled body of some poor man-beast, wrenching his saw cleaver from the chest with a hearty grunt. He did like the weapon, but he'd be damned if the thing didn't almost always get stuck in something, be it the walls or the bodies of the beasts themselves. It had been an absolute  _ hell _ to try and get it out of the Darkbeast without electrocuting himself, he'd already pulled off several bodies of that thing in Yahar'gul after it was dead, and when he tried to wash it after the Blood Starved Beast had been taken down, it was a miracle he hadn't poisoned himself or the Doll.

Being a Hunter always had its downsides, after all.

He was starting to get sick and tired of the blood and the antidotes and the sedatives and the bullets and the weapons and the shooting and the killing and the  _ hunting  _ and-

On that note, he shot back another sedative after rising from his spot next to the body. His arcane must be getting to him again, and not to mention that Hunters couldn’t stay out in the open for long, not without attracting attention, which already made him on edge. He ducked behind some alleys and snuck through the city, avoiding as much killing as possible, before climbing up a ladder and into an open tower overlooking Yharnam and Cathedral Ward. The Great Bridge was off in the distance, now Cleric Beast free, and he thought if he squinted enough, he could make out the lamp resting on it. His legs dangled from the edge, staring up at the sky, purples and reds and fuchsias all mixing together under the Blood Moon.

Much like Yharnam was, the sky was fucked as well.

It was then that he decided he could write to the one friend he had in this town, well, the one living friend, anyway. He had no idea about the whereabouts of Eileen after he’d taken down The Bloody Crow of Cainhurst, but something told him she was alive. His coat had deep enough pockets that he was able to keep an ink pen and a few scrap pieces of paper with him all the time. He scratched the pen against the paper to get the ink flowing, before writing out his thoughts.

_ Alfred, _

_ I hope you’re doing well, and that you’re still alive out there. Yharnam is pretty much done for at this point, I think. What’s a Hunter like me to do? His best, I suppose. I  _ _ have _ _ been trying to do my best, but I’m afraid my best is what caused this wretched Blood Moon. _

_ I didn’t want to cause this. I didn’t even want to go around and kill all these things, find out all these secrets. But Gherman told me to. ‘Go out and kill a few beasts, y’know, it’s just what Hunters do.’ I’m quite sick of him; I detest him wholeheartedly. I wish I could’ve met your Master Logarius, actually. The way you speak about him is inspiring, and I feel as though I would’ve liked him more than the old fart guarding the dream. _

The more he thought about telling Alfred these things, the more his heart raced and a faint blush spread across his cheeks. He’d been in contact with Alfred throughout the entirety of this long night, and he’d definitely felt some kind of attraction to him. But how long has he known him, actually? Hours? It seemed improbable, but it was true- he was  _ definitely  _ attracted to him, in a strong romantic way. But he had no idea if Alfred felt the same way about him in turn, after all, it had only been hours. Or maybe days? Time was weird here. But the more he talked to him, the more he noticed things about him, the more Rowan felt that it was some kind of romantic attraction. 

He huffed, shoving his hand into his pocket for another scrap, when his gloved hand rubbed against something… rubbery. He withdrew his hand, confused for a moment, before digging back in and pulling it out, only to gasp loudly at what he retrieved.

_ The unopened Cainhurst Summons. _

He’d nearly forgotten about his time in the castle, fighting ghosts and deformed knights, meeting the Queen of the Vilebloods, fighting… Logarius. Right. (Rowan was going to leave that out of the letter.) He hadn’t become a Vileblood, God no. He didn’t like the church, that was for sure, but he didn’t want to go against them either. Rowan was completely neutral on the whole stance of the Healing Church- were they good? Were they bad? Was it their fault that Yharnam fell? There were too many gaps in the story, and he hated it. Even Gherman’s books were of little use, but then again, this is coming from the library of a man who has  _ How to Court Fair Maidens _ Volumes One through Forty-Nine with him in the Hunter’s Dream. 

Shoving all thoughts of the creepy old man aside, Rowan hastily dug back into his pocket and yanked out another scrap to scribble onto.

_ I had nearly forgotten to give you these! I managed to have an audience with the Vileblood Queen herself, Annalise- I did not become one, before you even think to ask. I was only polite and respectful so as not to arouse suspicion, but it would appear she is the last of the race of the Vilebloods. I found these in the chamber where she resides. And you needn't worry, I have already cleaned Cainhurst itself of all the ghosts and monstrosities that lay within, and all you need to do is find her at the top of the castle. It’s a bit of a risky jump in some places, but I believe you are more than capable of doing it, Alfred. _

_ I promised you I would help you, and that I did. But I do not want our  _ _ relations _ _ friendship to stop there. Once the deed is done, you are more than welcome to seek me out. I… _

Rowan pauses in his scribbles, biting down on his lip, before finally committing to it.

_ … I care deeply for you. Which I know sounds rather strange, as it appears we haven’t known each other for very long, but there’s something about you that draws me in. I can’t quite explain it. _

_ So please, be careful. _

_ \- Rowan _

Folding the scraps up and sticking them in the opposite pocket with the unopened summons, he slides down the ladder and bolts through Cathedral Ward, to where he knew he had left Alfred last time, not far from the entrance to the Forbidden Woods. It had seemed like an eternity since he had first set foot in those woods, on his way to find Byrgenwerth and who knew what else. Time really was strange around here. Had it been only days? Weeks? Maybe even a month? He was so tired. How long would this go on for? Would it ever end? Would morning ever come? Would-

He stopped between an archway near where he knew Alfred to be, swigging back another sedative.  _ Damn Arcane. _

Not even a few steps after, he could see the familiar blonde fluff of Alfred’s hair overlooking the small iron fence that overlooked the woods. He turned upon hearing Rowan’s footsteps and smiled at him, giving a small wave. Against his will, Rowan’s heart skipped a beat, and he smiled behind the scarf over his mouth.

“Rowan, my friend!” God, even hearing the Executioner say his name made the poor lovestruck Hunter’s heart do a somersault in his chest, but he hid it as best as he could, simply returning the wave as he jogged closer. “Have you any news? How goes the beast hunting?” With a light laugh, he gestures at the sky. “I’ve seen your progress.”

Rowan shrugged sheepishly, laying his saw cleaver down by his feet and strapping his blunderbuss to his back so that his hands were free.  _ “It goes pretty well, I think,” _ he signs, Alfred nodding in understanding.  _ “But I am sorry about the Blood Moon. I don’t think much of Yharnam survived that.” _

“It was nothing you could help,” Alfred says. “There’s always something lying under the surface of this place; I’ve been here long enough to know that.”

_ “I think I’ve been learning that too. The Moon was only the first part. It’s not just beasts here anymore, Alfred. There’s abominations no man should ever see, hidden right behind our own perception of the Hunt. Upper Cathedral Ward, Yahar'gul… there’s so many things here, things that would scare even the bravest of Hunters.”  _

“Then it’s a good thing you’re pretty brave,” he teases, and Rowan was once again thankful for the scarf that hid his blush.

_ “But I also have… news of another sort.” _ He signs after a moment, and then reaches into his pockets for the summons and the notes. After handing them off, he signs,  _ “These are for you.” _

He squints at the two folded notes, shuffling them behind the summons, before his eyes go wide.

“Is that… the sigil of Castle Cainhurst?” Rowan nods, and that’s when he notices something- the wild glint in Alfred’s eyes. It always appeared when something related to his duty as an Executioner was brought up around him, be it about Logarius or the covenant itself or even the Vilebloods. Rowan was unashamed to admit that he loved that feverish glint, the way that Alfred’s smile twisted into something almost menacingly as the path forward was opened in front of him. Alfred straightens then, an amused smirk on his face. “I’ve heard tell of Cainhurst Nobles, and their amusingly pompous invitations.” Suddenly confused, he turned to Rowan. “Wait a minuet. How did you come across these?”

_ “Do not think ill of me, Alfred,”  _ Rowan signs rapidly,  _ “but I found summons addressed to me not far from where I had awakened for the Hunt on this night. I found my own way into the castle itself, and cleared it of everything for you.” _ With a point at the scraps of paper, he adds,  _ “I’ve detailed everything in there. The only one left to kill is the Queen herself, Annalise.” _

Listening intently, Alfred’s smile grows and widens in excitement until Rowan finishes. “Wonderful! I must thank you immensely. And I will depart immediately. But first…” He reached up around his neck, taking off a necklace where the famed Logarius Wheel hung upon it. “A token of my gratitude.” Pressing it into Rowan’s hands, Alfred looks at him with earnest. “Rowan, my good friend, I owe you more than I could ever imagine. Take this and guard it for me. You are an Executioner now- I’ve taught you all I can. Thank you for clearing the path to my Master’s Work.”

Rowan nods gently, wishing desperately that Alfred’s hands would stay in his a little longer, just so he could feel the weight of something- some kind of touch that wasn’t violent against him, for the first time since Doll had looked after him. He didn’t want to flinch at touches anymore, he wanted to express something, anything, he… he wanted to speak.

So that’s what he did.

As he watched Alfred trot away, excitement burning in his lungs, Rowan pulls down the scarf and calls out after him.

_ “Alfred!” _

The blonde stops dead in his tracks, turning around, shocked beyond all belief. Rowan stands there, smiling wider and brighter than he ever had before now, looking directly into the other’s eyes.

“Stay safe,” is all he says.

Alfred’s shock melts away into a gentle smile of his own, and Rowan thought he saw- and maybe it was just a trick of the light- a small, faint blush on his cheeks.

“May the Good Blood guide your way, Rowan, my dear friend.”

And he’s gone, leaving the Hunter behind.


End file.
